By David Yancy Kang

I heard a piece on NPR the other day about a new documentary of Bill Withers, the soul artist. There was an excerpt from this documentary that included an interview with him that really has stuck with me since I heard it. It goes like this: “One of the things I always tell my kids is that it’s OK to head out for wonderful, but on your way to wonderful, you’re gonna have to pass through all right. When you get to all right, take a good look around and get used to it, because that may be as far as you’re gonna go.”

In some ways, that’s the most depressing thing you’ll ever hear; but at the same time, it couldn’t be more true.

Let me explain. I was born in 1980, which places me in a group known as the ‘Millenials’. If you’ve never heard of the ‘Millenials’, we’re regarded as ‘trophy kids’. We collectively were born and raised being told we’re the best. We got awards for participating. We’re all somehow above average, and we’re all winners. We have extremely high expectations in life whether personally or in the workplace. We have an affinity for electronics, we know how to use computers. We own facebook. Our primary communication is the text message. We expect a more casual work environment. We’re socially and environmentally conscious.

In short, we’re a bunch of total ingrates.

When I was a kid, I had dreams of an amazing life. I would be a millionaire playboy. I would be Senator or I would be Gordon fucking Gecko. I would wear a suit and tie every day. I would be filthy stinking rich and I wouldn’t have to do anything to get there. I would be important – I would buy and sell human lives. Everything seemed so easy to me, how could I possibly fail? High school went the same way – I excelled at a lot of things without really trying, and had a whole lot of fun. I was heading to the college I wanted to go to, which I picked because it was a party school. Success was imminent, why should I try? I was on my way to wonderful – see if you can stop me.

Gradually, my expectations eroded. I found myself failing everything. I was partying too much and not doing any work because I thought that some magic would happen. Someone would come by and just hand me an incredible job.

I spent most of the time drinking, playing video games, working in various bars and restaurants, eating junk food, and being a flat out waste of life. I barely graduated. In my final semester, I didn’t bother signing up for the graduation ceremony because I wasn’t sure I was going to get the necessary C in Accounting 360 that was the only barrier between me and a diploma. I went to the Outer Banks instead that week – to have my sister log in to my school account to get my grades for me and tell me over the phone if I finished college or not. You get the idea.

I spent the next year after graduating in my college town, still working at a bar and a restaurant, living as I saw it ‘the life’. It was great – spent a lot of time around attractive young people that had nothing to do but wait tables and party. At the same time, I barely made enough to pay rent. I worked every single day, weekends and holidays. No days off, no vacations, no benefits of any kind. Still, it was a lot of fun.

Everything changed when I received a phone call from an old friend that I’ve known since grade school that technically didn’t even finish high school. I found out that he was making more than twice as much as me at a temp job. I felt humiliated. I re-assessed my life and thought about where I was vs. where I thought I’d be. I thought that I should have my first exotic car by now, dammit.

Within a month, I was moved back home with mom and dad. I got myself a temp job and waited tables on the side. I was looking for a ‘real job’ but coming up empty. No one wants to look at a resume that’s got nothing but pushing pilsners and slinging plates. Every day, berated by overachieving Korean parents for being a failure. So much for wonderful.

Then, I lucked out – a college buddy of mine was leaving his post at a tiny company outside of Philadelphia and they needed a replacement. They told me they would pay me a salary, which to me at the time was an ungodly amount of money. They told me I would not be working on weekends. They told me I would be getting health insurance, dental, vision benefits. PAID VACATIONS. I had NO IDEA THAT THESE EXISTED.

I was floored. I was in a daze, I couldn’t believe I was being handed all of this. In hindsight, I know now what they offered me is pretty standard in a ‘real job’. The pay actually was extremely low, but I didn’t know any better. The place was a complete dump – it was an industrial shop/garage and the office was just converted from half the building. It smelled perpetually like gasoline and God knows what other chemical fumes. It was loud. People wore t-shirts, jeans, sweatpants, sneakers, hats, whatever. Every other word was ‘fuck’ and they were always shouting at each other. Home sweet home.

I spent about three years at that job; then switched to a much larger, more ‘corporate’ company. It was a gorgeous office, new everything, clean. There were windows. People were more professional, polite, didn’t wear sweatpants or even jeans, and the company obviously had a lot of money. The transition was night and day. Something was broken? Go buy a new one, don’t sit there with a soldering iron trying to fix it. Need some equipment? No need to scour eBay; we’ll just get it from whomever can get it to us the fastest. Incredible.
The job was more like eight-hour social time when I was actually in the office; I was traveling all over the country the rest of the time. I was getting what I needed to get done finished, but finding a moment or two to check out local breweries, bars, whatever. Overall, I probably spent more time hanging out with my coworkers than actually working. It was totally cushy. All that stuff that shocked me back then was standard. I was alright, but somehow still really dissatisfied. I wanted more.

I ended up realizing there was nowhere further for me to go, so I took a friend up on a lark really, and applied for a recently vacated spot at his company. I started gathering reasons to leave, inflating everything I sort of disliked into raw hatred and evil. I would be making a big chunk of change more and I would be in charge of the department. It would be MY SHOW. My own office, my own everything. It would be wonderful. Funny how the definition changes over time. A while ago, I believed I should’ve had my first vacation home by now.

I got the job, so, I made the move after two years with my last company. I won’t get into any detail about my job now, but I’ll put it this way: it’s not exactly what I was expecting. At all.

I’m not saying I’ve given up – I know that’s what it sounds like. It’s just that I’m not where I thought I would be when I was younger, when I was feisty and full of vim and vigor. I find comfort in knowing that I am not alone in this feeling, but it still stings. I’m at Plan D or E… maybe even F. It makes me think of a conversation I had with a college friend some time ago, and we talked about ‘potential’. She said to me ‘Kang, you’ve never been anything more than potential’. Brutal. I suppose in a lot of ways, she’s right. We can’t all be above average. There are a lot of people out there, and in order to be above average, there have to be a whole lot of people that are average. Chances are, you are one of them, despite what you’ve been told and more importantly what you think about yourself. Not happy with this new? Do something about it and prove me wrong.

Or, learn to be satisfied if not happy with where you are even if you think it sucks. Other people have it a lot worse. It’s still okay to shoot for the stars, but don’t become embittered and consumed by hate because you failed to achieve what you wanted in life.

I guess my point is that I’m all right. And I’m taking a good look around me and getting used to it.

David Yancy Kang is 29 and not in the best shape of his life. This could be attributed to a lack of Bowflex, perhaps not. He works in IT; which likely has more to do with the previous statement than anything else. In his free time, he enjoys brewing beer, drinking said beer, and will occasionally actually finish a book but is predominantly a video game junkie. Other hobbies include running up small nation’s defense budgets in bar tabs, neat Macallan, cigars he can’t afford, having a laugh, cooking, and preparing for the zombie apocalypse. He currently resides in the Philadelphia area with his wife who is amazingly supportive of all his dumb ideas; as well as his two cats Roxy and Hiroshi and zero children.

What Does A Handshake Mean To You?

by David Yancy Kang

Contrary to the words of Greg Graffin of Bad Religion, a handshake is more than a silent ‘fuck you’.

What does a handshake mean to you? It makes me think about the gesture itself. I’ve been told that it’s existed since ancient times as some kind of proof that you aren’t there to harm the person with whom you exchange this motion. The reasoning behind this? I don’t know. I’ve heard all kinds of variations and explanations, probably the most unusual being that people actually originally grasped one another’s forearms because that’s where hidden blades were kept. I don’t know what kind of weird ninja society that explanation comes from – I’m no anthropologist, but the general idea is the same. It’s a sign of peace. We do it every day – meeting someone for the first time, with business deals, greeting a friend, greeting a weird relative that you’re not that comfortable with hugging, with complete strangers in Church if you do that sort of thing …so it’s a generally accepted everyday gesture of friendliness. I would take that a step further and say that a handshake is a representation of who you are.

In the instance of meeting someone for the first time, for example, you are giving your first impression. Think of it this way: this is the first physical contact that you are going to have with another human being, and like it or not, it speaks volumes about your character.

The Clammy Grip

When I shake someone’s hand and get a really weak grip, cold, slightly clammy grip … my brain says to me ‘This is not a friendly person.’ In some cases, ‘This person will throw me under the bus if it saves their skin and this is not someone that I want to deal with for any reason.’ Basically, what it says to me is ‘This person cannot be trusted.’

Now some of you might be saying ‘Hey, wait a minute … I just had a really long session of Call of Duty and my hand’s cramped up so I can’t grip someone’s hand’ or ‘My hands get sweaty, I can’t help it.’ Fine, that’s just something you’re going to have to deal with. First, let’s describe a proper handshake.

A Proper Handshake

The elements of a good handshake to me are, first and foremost a deliberate, not too fast, not too slow outreach of your hand towards the other individual. Don’t sidearm in, and don’t do it in such a manner that your hand is going to make a popping sound when contacting the other. This is not some kind of bizarro high-five. This is also not something like you just spat into your palm and are saying ‘Put ‘er there, partner’ like some kind of bad Western movie.

Strength and Timing

Do not attempt to show off how well the little plastic springy thing with the molded pistol grips is working by crushing the other person’s hand. This is not a macho-ness contest. A single pump will suffice, you don’t have to stand there shaking like Cheeky Chappy from ‘Banzai’. (Remember the show? Cheeky Chappy’s objective would be to shake hands with a celebrity in a mock interview and see how long he could maintain a handshake.)

Eye Contact and Smile

Perhaps most the most important factor in the whole exercise is eye contact. During all the motions of the handshake described, this is a forgotten piece that really can drive your impression home. Now you don’t want to stare them down unblinkingly a la Ford Prefect; but you want to look directly into their eyes. Doing so exudes a feeling of ‘I have nothing to hide. I am competent, confident, and most importantly, professional.’ Also, smile. Express genuine pleasure during the handshake. Not only is it good to think ‘It’s a pleasure to meet you; it’s good to maybe even say it. Maybe even include their name at the end. ‘It’s a pleasure to meet you, Clarence.’ (Or perhaps Michael Diamond?)

The Disengage

Then, perhaps the most difficult part: disengaging. As stated before, you want to complete the single pump, but you do not want to give the other party the impression that their hand is covered in acid, or on fire, or otherwise compromised in some way. Very important – if the other person’s hand is sweaty, do not wipe your own hand off on your trousers. Immediately going into your pocket for hand sanitizer is also not the best idea.

An awkward clinging to their hand is to be avoided. Definitely do not allow your fingers to tickle the other person’s palm either. Think of the Newton’s Third Law – your original grip should have an equal and opposite motion. An equally firm release signals ‘Hey, I’m letting go now so let’s not make this too awkward.’ Draw your hand away and let it go back to wherever it usually goes, but not in your pocket! Hands in the pockets is a topic that I will tackle at another time.

That’s basically it for the handshake. Almost anyone in sales has mastered this technique, or they’re probably not in sales anymore. It’s something seemingly so basic, yet can be so easily botched. It’s okay to practice with someone you’re comfortable with; preferably someone that’s going to be honest with you and tell you if you’re being creepy or weird, overly enthusiastic, too limp, your hand feels like a dead fish, or whatever other problems you may have going.

Remember that the handshake is a reflection of you. What feeling do you want to leave to people you are meeting or seeing for the first time? A good handshake will leave the other party thinking ‘Wow, what a dynamic, real person. This is someone that I respect and would love to do business with.’ Or ‘I have a positive feeling about this person.’ Okay, no one says things like that, but hopefully you get the idea.

David Yancy Kang is 29 and not in the best shape of his life. This could be attributed to a lack of Bowflex, perhaps not. He works in IT; which likely has more to do with the previous statement than anything else. In his free time, he enjoys brewing beer, drinking said beer, and will occasionally actually finish a book but is predominantly a video game junkie. Other hobbies include running up small nation’s defense budgets in bar tabs, neat Macallan, cigars he can’t afford, having a laugh, cooking, and preparing for the zombie apocalypse. He currently resides in the Philadelphia area with his wife who is amazingly supportive of all his dumb ideas; as well as his two cats Roxy and Hiroshi and zero children.